


Wires

by Yoongi_Bear



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: All that jazz., BROTHERLY BONDING BOYS. Everyone is mess, Blood, Ghost Keith, M/M, Missing Persons, Murder Mystery, Ryou also hates Adam so....yeah, Ryou has anxiety, Ryou is a loyal as hell brother, Shiro is a mess tbh, Tbh., riddles wow., toxic shadam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 16:54:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16141499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yoongi_Bear/pseuds/Yoongi_Bear
Summary: "If he said help me kill the presidentI'd say he needs medicineSick of screaming let us inThe wires got the best of him. " -Wires,  The Neighborhood.What would you do if you were a police officer in a small, out of the way town in Michigan, and suddenly your brother's best friend goes missing?





	Wires

It's a rainy October day, chilly and wet. Ryou tugs his heavy navy blue jacket closer to himself to keep the biting chill out as he walks to the small limestone brick building. His brother should already be there, and his black Kia is in it's usual spot. A few golden leaves drift onto the roof of the car, almost picturesque. The frigid breeze smells like nitrogen, and Ryou huffs. God, he hates living in Michigan. If he wanted to be rained on every day, he'd move back to Tokoyama. But no, Shiro had insisted that they needed to move to America. Damn his charisma. 

He enters the warm police station with a sigh, peeling off his jacket and tossing it on his desk. A steaming cup of something pumpkin smelling from Starbucks was by his computer, and he raises his eyebrows at his brother, who was staring at him from across the room. "Hey, there you are!" Shiro shouts, and Ryou slumps into his chair. How was Shiro such a happy person at seven AM? Especially on a dreary day like this? 

"Morning, Takashi. Aren't you supposed to be doing rounds right now?" 

Shiro walks over with his usual up-and-at-'em swagger, ruffling Ryou's long hair. "Lance took my rounds today. Said he needed extra hours." 

"And you just let him?" Ryou replies, swatting his brother's hand away with mild irritation. "And I get it, I need to tie up my hair. I couldn't find an elastic and I refuse to take the ones in Kokeshishi's bowl."

"I told you to buy more! You know she likes to play with them." 

"Damn cat needs to get sprayed every time she touches my hair ties. I don't want my hair smelling like rotten fish," Ryou mumbles as he digs through one of the drawers in his desk to find a hair tie. Once he finds one, he pulls his shoulder-length black and dyed silver hair into a man bun, exposing the undercut beneath. Shiro groans and walks away with a muttered "she's your cat." 

"I heard that, Takashi! I'm the older one, remember that!" 

"By five minutes!" Shiro calls back, waving his right hand as he disappears into the break room. 

Ryou snorts and turns to his desk, opening up Windows on the outdated desktop computer. After a brief check of his email, he concludes that legitimately nothing interesting ever happens in the sleepy town of Winchester, Michigan. Nothing. Aside from a few college parties getting busted for a bit of pot smoking, the average day consists of Ryou falling asleep at his desk and screwing around on YouTube until his shift was over. He has that sinking feeling in his stomach that today was going to be one of those boring, slow-motion days. Better have the liquor ready. 

As soon as Ryou pulls out the glass bottle from his desk, his twin's head appears in the doorway he'd just left through. "Better not be drinking on the job again, or God so help me," Shiro says, snowy bangs falling into his eyes. Ryou can see the white powdered sugar on his cheeks from the donut he was inevitably consuming with glee. 

Ryou smiles guiltily and dumps about two shot's worth of liquor into his latte, and Shiro rolls his eyes and disappears again. What else was he going to do when he was stuck inside all day? Not nothing. He takes a long sip of the warm latte, which he has to admit was a good choice on Shiro's part, staring outside at the rain that slowly drifted down the window. Something flips in his gut, and a chill runs down his spine. Something is wrong, horribly wrong. He doesn't know what, but he's had this feeling before. The room suddenly seemed frigidly cold, the air heavy and unbreathable. Something horrible was happening. But what? All of the color drains from Ryou's face when the phone rings and the receptionist answers. 

Ryou almost knocks down his latte when he shoots up in his chair, listening to the receptionist's voice. "Yes ma'am, we will begin a search right away. Just breathe, please, and I need you to tell me where Mr. Park was last seen. " 

Shiro walks in the room just then, eyebrows furrowed, several navy-blue clad officers on his heels. One of them, Shiro's close friend Matt, looks concerned. "What's going on?" 

Ryou meets Matt's gaze, the heavy feeling still weighing him down. "I think someone just went missing." 

"Oh," Matt's expression darkens. "Oh my god.''

"Thank you, Ms. Park. I promise we will do our best to find your son. Yes, we're launching a search now. Thank you, ma'am." The receptionist hangs up the call and tosses a manila file folder on the counter, which Shiro snatches up immediately. Ryou watches as his brother reads over the information written down. After a long minute, he finally speaks. 

"Alright, everyone. We've got a missing persons case for a Kyungjae Park. He's 5 feet 5 inches with dark hair and violet eyes. He responds to Keith. His last known location was at Warren Park. I need everybody to dispatch, and someone call Officer McClain and get him on this search. Now!" 

Ryou can't shake the horrible sinking feeling that makes his stomach churn, but the feeling spurs his urgency. He pulls on his jacket with a deadly efficiency, double checking that his 9mm pistol was loaded and at the ready, and sets off with his brother, abandoning his latte. Shiro's gaze was hard and deadly, and Ryou grabs his hand and squeezes it. Shiro glances over and whispers, "Keith's missing, Ryouka. My best friend is missing. " 

"I know, Takashi. We're going to find him, and then there's going to be hell to pay." Ryou replies as he takes a seat on the passenger side of Shiro's car, making sure all of the computers and the radios are functioning properly. The other officers' voices filter through, each of them stating their status and location. The anxiety Shiro is feeling is evident in the hardness of his gaze, and Ryou swallows air. He's never seen Shiro this terrified, this duty-drawn, in his life, and Shiro looks like he's about to murder someone. Shiro flips on the sirens and they tear out of the parking lot like they were the horsemen of the apocalypse. Rain pelts the car as the speedometer reads 100 miles per hour, and Ryou takes note of the strange amount of crows outside. What was the lore of crows? Weren't the black vermin birds associated with death? God, Ryou hopes that it was just a coincidence. He prays that his suspicions wouldn't be correct. 

The strange chill runs through his spine again when the car stops and Shiro pulls out his pistol, muttering to himself unintelligibly. Ryou stares at him for a moment before shaking his head and exiting the car, rain pelting down, cold and ominous. Something horrible happened in this park, Ryou drawing a shaky breath as he watches officers with guns drawn disappear into the dark forest. In the corner of his vision he sees his brother sprint into the park, purposeful and murderous in his movements. Ryou gulps and follows, the heavy feeling growing worse. 

"Takashi! Slow down! You'll miss something-!" Ryou shouts and Shiro stops and turns, chest heaving. 

"Ryouka, we have to find him. We have to. " Shiro's shouting over the storm, his voice choked. Ryou can't tell if rain is making his cheeks wet or if those wet streaks are tears. 

"I know! But panicking and sprinting into a forest isn't going to do anything." 

Shiro stares at his brother, wet stringy hair blowing in the heavy wind. His grey eyes are piercing but glassy, and he exhales shakily. "Fine. You're right." 

That's when Ryou notices something out of place on the forest floor, something blocky and booklike in the leaves besides his brother. "Ryouka-? What are you-?!" 

"This is his," Ryou whispers as he lifts the worn leather-bound sketchbook. Dried crimson specks stain the otherwise pristine black leather, and it looks like it pooled into the Hangul imprinted on the cover. He runs a gloved finger over the text, vaguely aware that he's shaking. "This is Kyungjae's sketchpad. I recognize the characters from when he came over and taught you Korean." 

''Oh my god," Shiro whispers, kneeling besides Ryou. "O-Oh my god..." 

"We finished the search. We found nothing," Lance's voice filters through the earpieces they all wore. He sounds worn and scared, voice shaky. "What about you, Chiefs?" 

"We found something. It's being placed in an evidence bag right now." 

"Everyone get back to the station now. Chief Ryouka and I are going to send this to the lab for analysis and then we're going to debrief." 

Ryou jumps, but it isn't because of the stern tone in his brother's voice. It was the gasp he swore he heard to his left. He stares at the direction it came from, narrowing his eyes against the heavy rainfall. His heart is pounding in his chest, right hand already gripping the pistol at his side. "Who's there? Show yourself! I can see you." 

"Ryou, what the hell are you talking about? There's nobody there." 

"You can't see them?!" Ryou frantically points his 9mm in the direction of the figure, who was walking closer. His finger closes around the trigger, abandoning all of the weapon safety rules he had drilled into his brain. "This is a crime scene! You shouldn't be here!" 

"There's no one there! It's your eyes playing tricks on you, Ryouka. We need to leave," Shiro says behind Ryou, placing a hand on his back. Ryou shrugs him off and stands, slowly stepping toward the figure. A head of dark, messy hair comes into view, crimson staining the figure's shirt. Shiro's shouting at Ryou, but he's not listening, edging toward this person. His heartbeat ran a mile a minute, and he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. 

"Where am I?" The person says before his face comes into view. Startlingly vibrant lavender eyes, wide with fear, is the first thing Ryou sees. The person is dressed in torn black jeans, a light red shirt stained with darker red, and Converse. Their hair is a matted mess, their skin tainted with blue and black. Specks of crimson are all over the person, and there's a mess of cuts along their cheeks. The most striking wound is the gash on the side of their neck by the jugular, blood still gushing from the wound. 

It takes a moment for two things to register. The sinking feeling has disappeared, and the air is punched out of his lungs when he notices the faint transparency of the person's skin. 

Ryouka Shirogane had just stumbled upon Kyungjae Park's ghost. 

"Ryou." Keith says, eyes still as piercing as they were in life. 

"Keith," Ryou whispers back. 

"Am I...?" 

"You're...You were...You're dead...Oh my god..." Ryou can't breathe, and he has to sit down on a soggy log. The chatter in his earpiece drowns away into white noise, and the edges of his vision are going black. "This cannot be happening. I'm going insane. Shit." 

He rubs his eyes, and looks back up at Keith, who is staring at him. Nope, not a dream. Keith is dead, and he can see his ghost. His ghost is bleeding, crimson spreading into the sweater fabric. Ryou is fairly sure he's going to pass out. He's hyperventilating. He's going insane. He knows he's going nuts. Ryou buries his face in his hands, shoulders shaking. "Oh my god, this cannot...Holy shit...Jesus Christ...I..."

"Ryou, you need to breathe," Keith's voice is in his ear, a whisper, and Ryou swears he can feel cold breath on his ear. He stands up like he's dodging a bullet, and picks up his pistol from where he'd dropped it. 

'I-I-I...I...What?” Ryou can't form words, he's staring, he's shaking like leaf in the wind. He's probably going to catch a cold at this rate, standing in the rain like this, but he can't make himself move. Keith stands and places his hands on Ryou's shoulders, but it only feels like a constant breeze. 

"Breathe," He whispers, but all Ryou can think about is the blood flowing down Keith's neck down onto his shirt. A crow caws somewhere nearby, shaking Ryou out of his terrified daze. 

He bolts out of the forest, tears blurring his vision as he brushes past Shiro, well aware of Keith following him and trying to communicate with Shiro. Ryou almost slams the car door on himself and curls up into a tight ball. He doesn't hear Shiro entering the car, he doesn't hear them leaving. All he can register is that Keith is dead. He can see Keith's ghost and feel his presence, and he knows that Keith is sitting in the backseat. He can hear the droplets of blood hit the plastic seat, hear Keith's voice as he tries to get Shiro to speak to him. 

Park Kyungjae was brutally murdered. 

And Ryou could see his ghost. 

There's a murder of crows flying above the car that Shiro makes a passing comment on. They seem to know that something is very, very wrong. 

\---------

Thunder shakes the house, but Ryou doesn’t stir. He’s staring at the wall, and Keith’s sitting on the edge of his bed. Ryou doesn’t lift his head from the pillow when Keith speaks, but he pulls his folded legs to his chest. Shiro’s pacing in his room above Ryou’s, footsteps blending in with the sound of rain. 

Ryou’s hair is wet from the warm shower he took less than an hour ago. He hadn’t bothered to dry it, and he shivers. It’s cold in the dark room, probably due to Keith’s presence. Ryou had read somewhere that a ghost could cause the temperature in a room to decrease, and now he was sure that the temperature dropping was Keith’s doing. Ryou closes his eyes and balls his hand into a fist, gathering some of the bedsheets in his hand. 

“Ryou, I know you’re awake,” Keith says. 

“Keith, am I going insane?” Ryou whispers, voice shaky. “Y-You shouldn’t be here, Not- Not like this.” 

Keith sighs, and Ryou hears him shift so he’s laying down besides him, but facing the other way. If Keith was fully corporeal, their backs would be pressed together, but now all Ryou felt was a slight breeze and a feather weight pressure on his back. If it weren’t for the present situation, Ryou’s cheeks would be burning, but now he just exhaled softly. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t.” 

“I wish I could’ve been there...We should’ve been able to save you. God, Shiro’s probably going ballistic right now…” 

Keith chuckles, but it’s half hearted and sounds more like a dry wheeze. “Probably.” 

“Can...Can he see you too?”

“No. It’s only you. My guess is, you’re probably a medium. I’ve heard it runs in families.” 

Ryou frowns and opens his eyes. He shifts so he’s laying flat, and Keith’s gaze meets his. Keith’s head was propped up on his hand, glassy lavender eyes searching. 

A memory of his grandfather mentioning mediums rose to his mind. He was eleven and had frequent night terrors, mostly of ghosts tormenting him. This time, he was spending the weekend at his sofu’s, due to Shiro coming down with chicken pox and his parents not wanting him to contract it too. His sofu was comforting him and mentioned how he saw them too, and that it was okay. His grandfather had been a medium, able to see and communicate with ghosts, and Ryou was one too. “My god…”

“You thought about it, didn’t you?” Keith whispers. Ryou’s gaze drifts to the still-bleeding gash on Keith’s neck, and he feels a pang of guilt when he realizes it’d probably never stop bleeding. Keith seems to notice the painful look in his eyes, and covers the wound with his hand. Crimson liquid drips through the gaps in his fingers. “Sorry. I can’t really interact with things so…I can't put a bandage on.” 

“Of course you can’t.” 

“Hey, no need to be harsh.” Keith looks offended, and Ryou snorts. “It’s been a long day for both of us. I got murdered, and you discovered you can see my ghost.” 

“That about sums up today,” Ryou replies and notices how Keith smells like lavender and burning tobacco, underneath the obvious stink of blood. Why he notices this, he doesn’t know, but he wishes he didn’t. His stomach twists, suddenly nauseous. He doesn’t want to be laying with Keith’s always bleeding ghost. He doesn’t want to be stuck on a murder case, he doesn’t want to sleep because he knows, he knows, the night terrors will torment him. He rolls over so he’s not facing the ghost of a friend, instead staring at his shadow on the wall. 

Keith is silent, but Ryou can feel the hurt radiating off him. Ghosts could also project their feelings on others, according to the awful horror films Shiro seemed to love, so it made sense that Keith’s hurt was reflecting onto him. “Are you going to stay?”

“I really have nowhere else to go,” Keith replies. “I can leave if you want me to.” 

Ryou doesn’t reply. He doesn’t know what he wants. Keith’s presence is both a comfort and a burden. Keith seems to understand, and Ryou could imagine his expression softening. “I’ll leave,” he whispers. 

 

“No, please stay. I...I don’t really want to be alone.” Ryou turns again, and Keith’s cheeks are a pale pink. “You don’t need to stay on my bed. If you want to go sit somewhere else, go ahead but...I just want someone here. Even if they’re not fully corporeal.” 

“Okay,” Keith nods and sighs. “I’ll stay.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Don’t. You need sleep.” 

They sit in silence for what feels like an eternity, and Keith has moved to the beanbag in the corner of his room. When Ryou finally falls into fragile REM sleep, he’s vaguely aware of Keith’s eyes on him. 

\-----------

Ryou wakes up three times that night. The first time was because of a nightmare that he calmed himself down from, around two am. Then, a half hour later, Shiro knocks something over in his sleep, sending whatever it was crashing to the floor. Ryou woke up in a cold sweat, heart pounding from the anxiety plaguing him all that night. He thought someone was in the house, and he almost pulled the pistol out from his dresser, until Keith explained that it was just a book falling off his brother's bedside table. 

The third and final time he wakes up, he wakes up to a guilty - sounding squeak and a clatter from across the room. Ryou groans and sits up, glancing at the small digital clock on his bedside table. Four forty five AM. Not bad for falling asleep at midnight. 

“Uh… Morning?” Keith is standing on the bottom shelf of Ryou’s tall black bookshelf, a guilty smile plastered on his face. His gaze keeps drifting to the top shelf that he couldn't reach, where Ryou kept his favorite books. “How did you sleep?”

“You tell me,” Ryou replies, grimacing at the chaos that was his hair at the moment. “What are you doing?” 

Keith's cheeks turn red. Ryou raises an eyebrow. “I was uh… Going to grab a book..?”

“You can interact with things?” Ryou picks up the black Loreal hairbrush from his bedside table and set to work on brushing out the rat's nest that was his hair. 

“Yeah. That falling book was my fault.” 

Ryou huffed, rolling his eyes. Keith was smiling sheepishly, his fingers resting on a copy of various Edgar Allen Poe works. If Keith wanted to read, he could've just asked instead of scaring Ryou half to death. He rubs his eyes with his thumb and index finger before standing and grabbing the black and white book for Keith, who stares at him. “You could've just asked for help, short stack.” 

“Hey! I'm the average height for an Asian.You and Shiro are the freaks of nature. “ 

“Uh huh, sure. Maybe you're just a dwarf.”

“That's offensive to short people,” Keith shoots back, dark hair bouncing as he plops down in the window and flips through the pages of the worn book. He frowns, and Ryou watches as he runs a thumb along the bent corner of a page. “Did anyone ever tell you not to dog ear books?” 

“It's easier than finding a bookmark at three AM. Bookmarks fall out.” 

“You are such a pain.”

“Why, thank you. It’s not like I’m searching for you or anything,” Ryou rolls his eyes and set down his hairbrush, tugging his thick hair into a top knot. Keith laughs, and Ryou’s heart flips at the sound. Keith’s laugh is light and bubbly, a ray of sunshine in the otherwise dark room. It’s hard not to laugh too, and when Keith snorts like a stuffed up child Ryou bursts out into a fit of giggles. Of course, his laughter on spurs Keith’s snorting on, so they’re both sitting there cackling like the idiots they are. 

It’s nice, pretending that he wasn’t stuck here laughing with the ghost of his brother’s murdered best friend. That sounded really weird in his thoughts, and Ryou stops laughing. Keith laughs on for a moment before he notices Ryou’s silence, and his laughter cuts off abruptly. “Ryou? Are you alright?” Keith’s voice is soft and quiet, almost hesitant. “Is it your anxiety?” 

“What?!” Ryou shouts, and then promptly covers his mouth. His pulse skyrocketed, and Ryou could feel his cheeks burning. Even Shiro didn’t know about the little orange pill bottle he kept in his closet, which was a pain to hide from his nosy brother. Somehow, Keith found the bottle of Xanax in one night?! Jesus. Apparently Keith was more nosy than he acted, and Ryou made a mental note to confine Keith to a section of his room tonight. “How’d you find those?!” 

“Shut up, you’ll wake up Shiro. I got a little nosy, no big deal. Besides, it’s just a little anxiety.” Keith shrugs, and Ryou nearly screeches. 

“Just a little anxiety?! If the force or Shiro find out about it, I’m fired! You can’t just have anxiety and be a police officer.” 

Keith smiles sheepishly. “Oh. Well then, you’re lucky I can only speak to you.” 

Ryou rolls his eyes and grumbles, digging around in his tall mahogany dresser for one of his navy work shirts and a white undershirt. Once he grabs them, he turns to Keith, who’s eyeing him up and down. Ryou’s fairly sure he’s about to prove that humans can, in fact, spontaneously combust. Keith meets his gaze finally, and Ryou groans. “Do you mind? I’m trying to change here.” 

“I can tell.” Keith raises an eyebrow, smirking. “I’m just waiting for the show to start.” 

“Out. Get out. “ 

Keith stands and walks through the door (literally, he just walks through it), and his laughter rings down the hall. Ryou shakes his head, cheeks flaming. Was Keith flirting or just being annoying? From all the times Keith came over, he never spoke to Shiro or Ryou like that. Occasionally he’d cast a side eye glance at Ryou, but he’d never stared at him...like that. Ryou shakes his head and tugs on his shirt and buttons up the navy blue uniform shirt. He shivers, but not because he’s cold. His mind is feeding him images of Keith’s gaze on him like that in multiple scenarios, and he hates it. Ew. Keith was his brother’s best friend, and thinking like that was too cliche. No.

He huffs, finishes his daily routine (all while fighting back various daydreams) and leaves the room. Someone catcalls to his left, and Ryou groans again. Keith steps into view, dark tangled hair falling into his eyes when he tilts his head. “Boy, do I love me a man in uniform.” 

“Shut up,” Ryou mumbles, careful to keep his voice low and quiet. Shiro hadn’t stirred yet this morning, and Ryou didn’t want to wake him up now. He couldn’t imagine how Shiro was feeling right now, but work for him just did not sound like a good idea. After this mess was over, either way, would Shiro ever be able to fully return to his usual, bubbly self? Would Ryou ever feel normal again? Would anything be normal again? Probably not. God, why couldn’t this be a normal week? 

“I was complimenting you.” 

“Uh huh. I hope you realize your flirting is basically useless and kinda creepy.” 

“That just means it’s working,” Keith replies with a flip of his hair. Ryou huffs in mild irritation and stalks off the the kitchen, starting the Keurig and popping a green tea cup into the machine. Keith yelps in offense, and something hits Ryou between the shoulder blades. Only a day into living with Keith’s ghost and he already wanted to strangle him. 

“I’m not picking that up.” 

“I didn’t expect you to. You’re lazy.” 

“I am this close to shattering this mug over your head.” 

 

“Feisty, I like it.” 

Ryou’s traitorous cheeks are burning, and Keith snorts behind him. Oh-ho-ho, if Keith is looking to get strangled and pinned to the floor, he’s going to get it. “I’m going to pretend you don’t exist.” 

“Oh thank you. That’s so kind to the murder victim.” 

The tea stops flowing into the thermos, and Ryou eagerly snatches up the cup and haphazardly screws on the lid. He chugs the hot tea as he tosses on his black jacket, the letters “WPD” in silvery reflective material written across the back. He’s vaguely aware that Keith is hanging back, watching him from the kitchen as he struggles to pull on his shoes with one hand. Keith’s gaze is burning and hard to avoid. Suddenly Ryou wants to spontaneously combust again. “Take a picture, it lasts longer.” 

“I’m waiting for you to fall over,” Keith replies loudly and glides over to Ryou. Ryou grunts his response. “Give me that cup, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” 

Keith’s fingers are icy as he takes the thermos out of Ryou’s hand, the concentrated breeze chilling his fingertips. Jesus, was Keith always cold? Gross. Ryou shivers and tugs on his other shoe, standing and taking his cup away. 

They don’t speak when they enter the car, or when Ryou arms the security system via phone in the car. It’s silence until they end up stuck in morning rush hour traffic, when Keith points at a tree outside a house. “Look. “

It takes a moment for Ryou to register that the black specks aren’t leaves on the oak tree’s branches, but crows. Several murders of them, half facing the car and half of them facing the small ranch house. The red brick home looks familiar, but Ryou can’t place why. It’s like a word on the tip of his tongue, but worse. The ominous feeling returns, and the blood drains from his face. That’s not normal. Ryou knew why they were staring at their car, but his tongue suddenly felt too heavy to form words. A cold breeze runs over his hand, and he shakes his head to clear it of the speeding thoughts whirling around his head. 

“Do they normally do that?” Keith asks. 

“They’re here because of you,” he whispers.

“What?” 

“The crows. They can sense death and follow it around. I think it’s some old wives tale.” 

“Oh.” Keith bites his lip, and his hand is back at his neck. “You’re shaking, Ryou.” 

“Sorry. I just got this weird feeling when I ….Never mind.” Ryou shuts himself up and focuses on the road, heart thumping against his ribs. The weird heavy feeling always seems to strike when the ravens were around, but Ryou can’t figure out why. He has a faint idea that it has to do with the folklore surrounding the death and crows. Because he was a medium, did he have some sort of strange link with the vermin birds? “Stop picking at that.” 

“What does it matter if I’m already dead?” 

There's a faint sound of droplets hitting plastic, and Ryou gags when he sees what Keith is doing. He’s watching the blood drip down his fingers onto the interior of the car, and the blood dissipates as soon as it hits the plastic. “Jesus, that’s disgusting Keith. Stop.” 

“Sorry. Blood is actually a lot thinner than I imagined.” 

“Okay, and you’re on mute for the rest of the day. Thank you.” 

Keith laughs and Ryou shakes his head. Within five minutes, they arrive at the police station. Keith stands to get out, but Ryou shoots him a death glare. ‘Uh-uh, no. Not yet. I have to lay down some ground rules.”

“Ew. Rules.” 

“Shush. Absolutely no touching anything. Do not. Don’t do something dumb and make me laugh during a meeting. Basically, pretend you don’t exist.” 

“Okay. So act like I’m dead. Got it.” 

“I hate you so much,” Ryou snaps as he gets out of the car, and Keith chuckles. Oh, he could flip a table right now and he hoped it landed on Keith’s head. 

A crow caws as he steps into the building, and Ryou throws a pebble at the beady eyed demon. It’s chilly inside the office, as usual, and a group of officers is milling about in the corner. One of them, a mixed looking man with a very gay face and a twinkish attitude was describing the amount of crows at his house, an officer named Adam Winchester. Lance was nodding along enthusiastically, leaning on the wall and gnawing on a donut.

“Ew, I didn't know Adam worked here,” Keith states in a very passive aggressive tone of voice. 

“You know Adam?” Ryou whispers, thankful no one is looking at him to witness his babbling to himself. Keith huffs. 

“Yep. We get into arguments a lot, mostly over Shiro.” 

“Really? Is it because of the Detroit PD job he wants?” 

Keith nods, matted black hair bouncing. “Adam's just not a good person. He gives me the heebie jeebies.” 

“I cannot believe you just said heebie jeebies.”

“I'm dead, so I can say whatever I want free of judgement. Only Satan can judge me. Or maybe Chuck. You watch Supernatural, right?”

Ryou rolls his eyes and sits down, wanting nothing more than to be left alone, but Matthew Holt decides to come over and bother specifically him. Keith continues his musing over Lucifer and Chuck, but that blends into the white noise that was the chatter in this damned police department. 

“Where’s Shiro?” 

“He’s at home. He’s having a rough time with this so, I’m covering for him.”  
Matt nods. “Well, let him know that he can talk to me any time.” 

 

“I will. Did you get those samples sent to the lab?” 

Matt nods. “My dad says that it’ll take a few weeks to get any results though. The blood on it was pretty diluted, and we can’t be entirely sure that it’s Kyungjae’s. For all we know, we could have a serial killer on our hands.” 

Ryou shivers at the thought, mortified by the very idea of a serial killer running amok. God, that would be horrible and likely get several people killed. Not a fun thing to think about, especially with his brother at home alone. “I don’t even want to consider that as a possibility. “

Keith has gone silent, hovering very close to Ryou, and he can smell that lavender and cigarette smoke smell again. Keith looked apprehensive, eyebrows furrowed like he was in deep thought. Was he considering the serial killer theory? By the way his face fell, the answer to that question was yes. Ryou exhaled softly, and he could feel the dull buzzings of a panic attack stirring in the back of his mind. 

Oh well, he had some Xanax in his desk. 

“We can’t leave any stones unturned, Chief,” Matt replies before he walks away and resumes conversation with Lance and Adam. His words ring like an echo in Ryou’s mind. 

Keith is staring at a wall, his stare blank and glassy. Ryou wants to do something to comfort him, but he just sighs and turns away. His heart is pounding again, and he's fairly sure he's hyperventilating. 

_“We can’t leave any stones unturned, Chief.”_

Somehow, that one sentence made this situation seem entirely too real, and entirely too painful. 


End file.
